Commie-Viruses and Talking Turkeys

     The night before Thanksgiving I felt it. Creeeping up, all sly and villainous. *gong-sound* It was The Crud. I think I may have mentioned that I have fibromyalgia. Just like I may have mentioned that I like to paint, or hate snow….Sorry, I am now about to redundantly, obnoxiously revisit my ailment. Oh Lord, I am becoming just like those old people you edge away from at the doctor’s office that will tell you about their prostate or their acute angina, before you have a chance to bury your nose in a dog-eared Golf-Digest magazine from 1994.  They may have acute angina, well I have nice knees. Big deal…..
     Now where was I? Oh yes, about me…..I could feel it, so I knew it was coming with an agenda. My fibro usually dulls my spider-senses to these things. I always feel flu-ish and poopy anyway, so I often can’t tell I am getting something new until I am embracing the toilet as though it were a long lost relative, or I have begun to stumble around, clutch my head and moan. For instance, when I went to get my flu shot they sent me home with no shot, because I had a fever hovering around 100 degrees. Huh….I have low-thyroid so I usually have the temp of a cadaver after about three hours gone. Around 95-96.6 so this was like really having a temp!   
     So, anyway this new hypo-gurucus headed straight for my lungs. *gong-sound* It did not pause in my nose, except to trick me into thinking it was a mere sinus headache…..no it came charging in the night before Thanksgiving and set up shop. I pictured all those little green blobs, like on the commercials, full of attitude and mucous. Grrr. I took all kinds of home remedies. They did NOT work. “E-mergency” is a sham! Teas are useless. Viruses scoff at these drinks and use them in their little tiny hot tubs. They use zinc and vitamin–C as party Hors D'Oeuvres. “Have another zinc on toast!” They laugh gaily.
   This morning I got up feeling like Godzilla was stomping around in my chest. It makes you move ever so carefully. I could hear the turkey making noises in the fridge. Oh sure it is headless and plucked, but it still demands to know who is going to put it out of its naked shame. A golden brown turkey is a happy turkey.
      My daughter had to work, that let her off the hook. Jacob (our youngest) would have tried to shove it in the microwave on high for 3 minutes and say “Waaaa-Laaaaa!” (I know it’s voila, Shudd-up!) Dennis (our oldest)  poked at it a couple of times through the netting in a puzzled manner. Poor little Charly had a look like a deer caught in headlights; first Thanksgiving at the in-laws and that is a lot to ask of a new little bride. My hubby would have tried, bless him,  he would have. But we won't discuss the outcome of that in my delicate state.
   Well the turkey may have been talking, but it wasn’t going to hop in the roaster by itself. So I did my thing. Hey, I wore gloves, and coughed into my jammie shirt. At this point I had the chills and thought of climbing in right along with it, but I knew it was too tight a squeeze... Well, as I was up anyway, I staggered around and made a bunch more stuff, which I hear is pretty good. But, everything has a weird taste to me. Charly helped me, bless her little bones. Great deviled-eggs, girl…so I hear….but nothing seems right to me! *gong-sound*
     My Mom and Step-Dad were supposed to come; but one croak on the telephone and they backed out faster than Sarah Palin refusing a White House dinner party (NOT that she would be invited, unless there was also a knife-thrower for the dinner-show) take that as you wish, I am non-political……But later, I made up a care package for my parents and they grabbed it and ran like rabbits.
     Word is they thought it was yummy too. Either I cook wicked-good when I am sick, or everybody is humoring me! How will I ever know?... I think I got a scald on that bird though! The fam was actually changing into their meat-pants. Oh you wicked, wretched virus...you ruined my fun, but you didn’t ruin theirs. Ha Ha!!!
     I hear all viruses come from China! I believe this is some sort of Commie-Plot, "HA! You Capitalistic Pig. We send you the swine flu. May your big American turkey have flavor of boot-leather. May your decadent gravy have many lumps….."   *gong-sound*
    I looked around on Facebook today. Some of my friends had fancy tables and lots of family pictures. I did actually get showered and dressed, but only because as I was cutting off all of  the trappings from the turkey, frozen meat and ice went into my eyeball and hair. If someone had dared to pull out a camera they would have immediately been pureed into the celery spread. Eventually, in the afternoon we all finally grabbed a chair, said grace and dug in. Not a flower on the table!
     We watched the episode of WKRP where Mr. Carlson, as a publicity stunt, throws live turkeys from the back of a helicopter. My favorite line ever is, “As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.” I enjoyed that especially in an attempt to bum out my commie-virus. I am sleepy now due to medication and don’t want to talk to you anymore. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t want your prayers for good health and the death of the commie-virus, I desperately do. I just want to go lay my weary bones down. Let sleep knit the raveled sleeve, and all that.
     And, about your Thanksgiving, if you had flowers on the table and wine glasses, divoon! If you all dressed in your finest and all the kiddies were adorable I am glad. If Norman Rockwell would be envious, I salute you. And, I am very thankful you had it my lovely, lovely friends. Now I am going to bed and hope for a light coma. Nothing serious, you understand; just a wee bit of obliteration until morning. *faint, faint gong-sound*